


Cities of the Plain

by Not_You



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: (magically!)protected sex, Come Eating (incidentally), Costume Parties & Masquerades, Duelling, F/M, Female Character of Color, Gross, Medical Emergency, Medical Inaccuracies (as if the movie did any better), Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Pegging, Pets, Reunion Sex, Sibling Love, Unconventional Families, Violence, Weird dreams, Wet Dream, actual witch-hunting, cake is the devil, gretel is a pervert, hansel's pants are inappropriate, is it cannibalism if a witch eats you?, loopy hansel is cuter than he should be, once upon a time when we all lived in the forest, queensbury rules, sugarcane is delicious, the suffering begins, there are corsets and there are corsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 18,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm going to be honest, here.  I literally spoke the words, "I want to put them in fancy clothes and make them suffer."  There is a plot, but this is mostly the story of The BAMF Twins Versus Civilization.  It begins out in the woods, though, as so many things do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homeland

**Author's Note:**

> I know Bremen is a real place, but it's mentioned in Grimm's Fairytales, so what the hell?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hansel starts having weird dreams, and the hunt begins.

It's good to get out of the desert. After Augsburg it had been all about getting as far from home as possible, running from reordered memories and new identities and Mina's body stretched out on the loam, but they had known they would return and when the moment comes, it's a relief. They stay the hell away from their hometown, but range through the same old, dark forest as ever. The air gets colder every day, slipping from crisp to biting as autumn moves into winter. There's a derelict cabin with most of its roof left that serves as one of their favorite old campsites, and they spend an easy six weeks there. They work on Ben's marksmanship and let him eat purgeberries as a valuable learning experience and do their best to teach the gangly bastard to fight. All four of them eat like kings on the venison Edward brings in, with rabbits for both variety and target practice.

Then Hansel dreams of the fox. It's a bitter night with a dark halo around the moon and ice fog hanging in the lowlands and hollows, and all of them are sleeping inside, the cold a bit much even for Edward. He forms a massive heap between the two stacked beds and the fire. He generates his own massive share of heat, however, and even Gretel is warm on the top bunk while Ben sleeps in his trousers and nothing else, a hairsbreadth from the fire and nearly roasted. Hansel is comfortable wrapped in his coat, and burrows his face into the bag of spare linen he's using for a pillow.

It's midnight behind his eyelids too, but the moon is the low midsummer moon, hanging like a gold coin in the dreamy purple firmament. Hansel is standing on the edge of a forest clearing that he's never seen before but feels familiar anyway. Nothing moves. No breeze, no owls or insects. The air is so soft that it takes a moment for Hansel to realize that he's naked. It doesn't concern him as much as it should, and a rustle in the grass makes him look to its source, a small fox across the clearing from him. It's only about eight feet away, and stands motionless. Its pale coat is colorless in the moonlight, and something about its nervous, fine-boned grace is so familiar that there's suddenly a lump in Hansel's throat. He's paralyzed by it sad, dark eyes until it turns and runs into the darkness of the forest.

"Wait!" Hansel calls, and wakes everyone up.

"Hansel?" Gretel mumbles, hair falling everywhere as she hangs her head over the edge of the bed to look at him. Edward grunts an inquiry and Ben sits up, blinking.

Hansel sighs and lies back down, staring up at the underside of Gretel's bunk, where no one bothered to take the bark off. "Just dreaming. Sorry."

No one asks what he was dreaming about. It's a house rule and has been since their father left them in the forest. They dream of their parents and bad jobs and that goddamn candy house, and Ben surely dreams of fucking Gretel, so it's best if everyone keeps his mouth shut.

The next day they count up their funds and work out where they're going to pass the real icy heart of the winter, because the cabin isn't going to cut it. They haven't always been fortunate enough to make that call, and go down the path whistling. It's a game trail that tends south and west, and they make good time. Up ahead is Bremen, which isn't that much of a city, but bigger than Augsburg and cosmopolitan enough to understand that witch hunter money is just as good as any other kind.

Cutting through a little series of hollows they know takes them closer to the Bremen road and through a few tiny hamlets tucked in between the trees. The last of these rings with grief-stricken keening as they approach, and the scene on their arrival is far too familiar. A dazed husband and shrieking wife standing helpless in the yard, faces white and drained. Their neighbors are milling around with torches and axes, bewildered and probably about to kill the first spinster they can find.

In situations like this, Gretel and Hansel tend to hire themselves. Both the household's daughters are missing. Their shared room practically stinks of evil magic, and Edward dolorously sniffs the doll they offer him.

"That way," he rumbles at last, pointing into the woods. It doesn't take long to load up.


	2. Semi-Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children recovered: 2  
> Witches killed: 0  
> Team morale: Could be worse.

Not only is the kidnapping bold enough to disconcert them, but the ages involved are a bit unusual. For a witch's purposes, 'child' tends to mean twelve and under. The six-year-old little sister is well within the usual devouring territory, but she was a surprise baby, conceived a good ten years after the first one. The older sister is very beautiful and (her mother swears) untouched, which isn't leading in any good direction. Only rarely does a witch need a beautiful virgin, and always for something unspeakable.

The trail is hot and Edward would keep on it even if it wasn't, but the witch moves fast and they have to bolt to keep up for three days due east. The land turns to witch country, all brambles and foul fens. It doesn't slow them down as much as it would pre-Edward, but it's still a pain in the ass. They're tired and achy and angry when they finally find the lair. It was probably the kind of good dry cave that has served them so well over the years before its current tenants moved in. Now it's a dank hole between the roots of a dead tree with bark whorls like sinister faces and branches like reaching talons.

With three shooters, a troll, and wire traps, this shouldn't be so fucking hard. Ben stays by the wires and Edward knocks on the door. The whole tree shudders, and the arrangement of branches and nasty little hexes covering the mouth of the cave explodes out in a cloud evergreen needles and filth, with little hissing sparks that make Edward grunt in irritation when they hit his skin. Gretel goes in after him, and then a cloud of poisonous green smoke pours out and the witch goes blasting past Hansel. He curses horribly, running after her as more of the toxic mist pours out behind her. Even mixed with clean air it's vile, and he can't aim properly before she skims off to the south, well above their wire traps. Ben gets off a few shot before he collapses in the bushes, gagging and retching. Reassured to hear that much activity from him, Hansel runs back to find Gretel on all fours outside the cave, hacking and wheezing. The kids aren't much better off, faintly green and clinging to each other in a way Hansel knows all too well. The little one is just dirty, her sister is actually painted with some disgusting concoction in lines and designs that make his eyes hurt.

"All right?" He asks, crouching beside them and pulling out a rag.

"Yessir," says the smaller one, auburn hair a lank mess. The older sister just nods, eyes big and haunted. Her beauty shows even with three days of trauma and bad or no food, topped off by a light case of poisoning, and it makes Hansel uneasy. There's something perverse in the design's focus on obliterating the beauty of her face, and he gets to work on scrubbing it away.

"Where's Edward?" Gretel wheezes, and before Hansel can answer, Edward comes lurching out of the cave.

"Sick," he growls.

"Yeah." Hansel has had the least of it and feels pretty bad himself, eyes burning and gut tilting.

"Which way did she go?" Gretel wipes her mouth and struggles to catch her breath, taking Edward's hand and heaving herself upright.

"South."

She nods. "You and Edward trail her. Ben and I will get the girls home."

That reminds Hansel to go collect the kid, who's a little green around the gills but otherwise all right. They match their bearings and find meeting points on the map before splitting up, and Hansel dreams of that damned fox every time he closes his eyes over the next week. He and Edward move deeper and deeper into the woods as the trail continues due south. Catching sleep in trees and caves, he sees the fox's true color by dreaming sunlight. Its coat is bright, a little lighter and more gold than the usual red. It has the fine bones and delicate face of a vixen, and its eyes are always sad when it leaves. Calling doesn't even slow her down, and Hansel can never catch her.

"What the fuck, man," he groans, waking up on the eighth day. Bremen is behind them by now. They are officially in the middle of fuck-off nowhere, and Gretel still hasn't caught up. Edward grunts at him, gnawing on half a deer. "More weird fucking dreams," Hansel tells him.

"Fox?" Edward rumbles.

"Yeah. Trail still warm?"

"Uh huh."

"Fuckin' great."


	3. Sugar Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what sucks? Diabetic ketoacidosis.

They don't see Gretel again until the ninth day, cold and tired and way beyond pissed off. The bitch had laid them a false trail and they had fucking fallen for it. And into the goddamn river. She had left one of those fucking enchanted stones with a triggered illusion. And it had been a good one, just a vague, rushing shadow and not a gorgeous simpering naked woman or anything ridiculous like that. Hansel had chased it like the moron he is and now he's lower on serum than he's been in years. It's a horrible feeling, knowing he only has a few days left until the sickness hauls him down and keeps him there. All three of his teammates carry some, but the lion's share is rusting away downriver and it's his own damn fault. He sits hunched on a stump, hood drawn up as freezing rain pelts down and doesn't move a muscle until Edward makes what they’ve all come to recognize as a happy noise. He turns and waves as Gretel and Ben catch up last.

"Remind me why the fuck we came back north?" Gretel blows on her hands to warm them, shoulders hunched.

"Bad judgement and lack of alternatives," Hansel grumbles, doing the same. "We strayed. Lost a day and way too much fucking serum."

"Fuck. Edward, you back on the right track?"

He grunts and nods as Hansel's timer goes off. Hansel jabs himself with a little hiss at the pain and counts his remaining vials. "Sis? How many you got left?"

"Enough for two days or so."

"I've got about half that," Ben says, and Edward displays a fistful of vials before stashing it again. It's enough for a while, but there isn't much between here and civilization. They don't talk about it and make good time, but the witch makes better. They fight to get out of this uninhabited belt and to somewhere with a doctor or a wisewoman or at least an apothecary, but the vials empty at a frightening pace and after two days on short serum rations Hansel is weak and sick, guzzling water and stopping to piss what feels like every five minutes. He doesn't say a word about it and neither does Gretel, but by the third day they're holding hands like children as Hansel drags himself along. On the fourth day Hansel bursts into tears and is barely even embarrassed by it, depression and fear settling even more heavily on him than they should. He's felt it before but that doesn't make it any easier to fight and he just curls into a miserable ball and lets Edward carry him.

They run out completely soon after, and Hansel is breathing in those strange, deep gasps that makes Gretel's face white with barely-suppressed panic when they finally have some luck and run into an eremite. He's a bent old man with moss in his beard, and as usual with wilderness hermits, he stares instead of speaking. He looks like part of the forest. Hansel is getting less lucid by the moment, and scrubbing at his eyes where tears are starting up again. The old man approaches Edward, calm and fearless.

"Sugar sickness?" He says, taking in Hansel's strange breathing and glassy eyes, as well as the way he clutches his canteen.

"Y-yeah," Hansel croaks, and hides his face in his hands, a frightened little sob wrenching itself out of his throat. The man nods and leans in, plucking Hansel's hands away to sniff his breath. He makes a dubious noise at the scent, shaking his head and checking Hansel's temperature and pulse, listening to his strange breathing. He takes a step back at last, and produces a rough wooden cup from one of the pouches at his belt.

"Piss into this," he says, pressing it into Hansel's hands. Hansel stares for a moment, then squirms out of Edward's arms, grumbling and shielding himself with his coat as he obeys. His legs tremble with fatigue and the pain in his gut, but he manages not to make a mess, and passes the steaming vessel back to its owner. The old man takes a thoughtful sip and Ben squawks in shocked disgust. The eremite doesn't seem to notice. "You're in a bad way, son," he says to Hansel, and flings the rest of the urine into the bushes. "Come on." He turns and leads the way to his ramshackle hut, barely distinguishable from a deadfall. It's dark and warm inside, the fire aided by the body heat of a hutch of rabbits. Edward hunkers outside, too big to fit, and everyone else crowds in, Hansel's teeth gritted against his pain. Their host eases him down onto the bed of pine boughs and then catches a rabbit, wringing its neck in one expert movement and dropping the body on the rough table. He slits it open and pulls out the pancreas, extracting and pounding and cooking as Gretel holds her brother's hand and Ben stares in fascination.


	4. Civilization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes beat up creeps rather than kill witches.

Serum prepared, the eremite injects Hansel, who hisses and relaxes just a little. The eremite watches and mutters to himself before returning to the blood-streaked table where he concocts something out of clear water, honey, and mysterious powders before vanishing into the rough pit that serves him as a root cellar and coming out again with his hands full of beets. Hansel guzzles the potion as their host cooks a pot of beet greens and then hands it over and starts mixing more honey and water. Ben asks a thousand questions, and the eremite answers a few, telling him about like going to like, and the pancreas being pretty much the same across the whole animal kingdom. "Speaking of, could you or your troll kill me a boar? I don't want to kill all my rabbits."

Edward can kill a boar, and lumbers off to do so as soon as Gretel mentions it to him, leaving Gretel to stay with Hansel and hold his hand as he starts to feel better. He grins up at her. "Sorry about that."

"Shut up."

"Why beet greens?" Ben asks, and they both groan.

The next day they're moving again, hot on the trail. Hansel rests often at first, but soon springs back to normal speed and is in nearly his usual form when the witch leads them into the capital four days later.

Witches aren't unknown in big cities, but this is the first time the trail has led them here. The place is huge, and Ben gawps like the country bumpkin he is. They get in by leaving Edward outside the walls with white peacebonds all over him so the guards will know to let him be. Gretel pats his massive hand, assuring him that they'll be back, and telling him in an undertone to defend himself if he needs to and where to meet them if things go bad.

"I don't like leaving him," she says as they enter the gate to Lowtown, and Hansel sighs.

"I know, but if anyone can take care of himself…."

Lowtown is a riotous, noisy crush, and they move through the market and past the whorehouses until they find an inn that seems reasonably clean and can check in for a council of war.

They prowl the dark streets that night, looking for some sign of their witch. They know she's looking for a maiden, and most of the girls out now don't qualify, but there's still something in the air.

A scream down an alleyway draws their attention, but it's nothing within their specialty. Two young girls dressed far too richly to fit in around here are clinging to each other in terror, five men herding them back into the corner. They chuckle and leer and ask these pretty doves what they're doing so far from their roost. The dark one is staring with wide, dry eyes like a prey animal, her blonde friend's face hidden in her shoulder. In their combined disapproval and disappointment, Gretel and her brother are perhaps a little rough, but can't bring themselves to care. She breaks quite a few fingers and Hansel gives out the prizes for their achievements in stalking girls who can't be more than seventeen and pulling at their skirts. The prizes are concussions, and a few minutes later those of their opponents who still can bolt, dragging the others. The alley is quiet again except for the girls' hiccupping sobs, the dark one's face crumpling from watchful terror to tears.

"Shit," Hansel mutters, running a hand over his short hair. "What now?"

"Now we get these girls home. What are your names?" Gretel asks, going closer.

"G-Genevieve Von Meer and Lily Featherstone, m-miss." Lily doesn't speak, a shaking mess, but she does look up.

"I'm Gretel. This is my brother Hansel and we usually hunt witches." Lily's eyes go huge, but she doesn't say a word. "Next time an assailant is that close, try a headbutt. People are almost never expecting it. Where do you live?"

Before they can give her the address, Hansel starts to wobble. "Uh, sis?"

"Hansel, what's—" She wheels around and then sighs. "You didn't eat, did you?"

"I did, it's just not sticking with me!" Hansel would argue further, but staying upright is suddenly incredibly hard. Gretel catches him and lowers him to the pavement as he shudders and twitches.

"What's wrong?" Genevieve asks, coming a little closer.

"Sugar shock. Ben?"

Ben tosses her a bottle of honey, and she tips a few drops into Hansel's mouth when he stops twitching and opens his eyes again. He's still dazed, but obediently licks the honey off of his lips. After he takes a bit more he can sit up with Gretel's help, and all of them can walk back to Genevieve's house.


	5. Vagrant Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A witch-hunter's natural habitat is not posh.

Lord Von Meer has dealt with many strange things in his time, as well as with far too many of Genny's scrapes and foolish tricks. This is wholly new, though. Not only has she dragged poor Lily into a dreadful experience that leaves him wondering what on earth he's going to tell the poor child's father, she has brought home a set of three vagabonds. One is a fiercely beautiful young woman with black hair and eyes, and the others are her fair brother and a skinny redhead who looks like this is his first time out of the mountains. The brother looks drunk, but this is apparently a symptom of sugar sickness, and least he's quiet, wrapped up in an enormous coat and gnawing one of those lengths of sugar cane they sell in Lowtown like a Carib laborer.

Genny babbles frantic self-justification for endangering herself and Lily as well, but also tells him who saved them. He looks to the vagabonds again.

"It seems that we owe you a great deal."

"No charge," Hansel mumbles, looking very much like a puppy as he gnaws on the stick with his back teeth.

"My brother is right, but if we could stay here until he feels better…."

She hasn't addressed him properly, but he's fairly certain she doesn't mean to be impertinent and simply doesn't know his style. "Of course you may, Miss Gretel."

They're expecting the use of a couch and perhaps some sugary tea before they're shunted out the tradesman's entrance. People like the Von Meer family (who are actually nobility, god help us) don't generally take to Hansel and Gretel, but this bunch seems to be properly grateful for the rescue of the household's only daughter and her best friend from childhood, providing a pair of adjoining rooms for the night as well as a smaller one for Ben. Even that one is large and luxurious, but the other two are goddamn ridiculous.

"Are we s'pposed to be in here?" Hansel mumbles, tangling his arms in his coat as he struggles to get out of it. Gretel of course tells him that they are, but can't help feeling the same doubt. She helps him off with his boots and gets him settled, stroking his hair and then snapping to alert as a serving girl comes in, Ben at her heels.

"How is he?"

"Getting better." Gretel thanks the girl and investigates the tray, blinking to see fresh-squeezed orange juice and sandwiches for both of them.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, miss?"

Hansel giggles and Gretel lightly smacks him in the head and then pets him again. "I think we're all right, thanks. Ben, have you been fed?" She ignores it as Hansel bats at her hand like a drunk kitten.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. They have a copy of Karminrot's Guide!"

Gretel blinks, duly impressed. "Damn." The Guide is an old text of supernatural lore, and one of the more reliable sources going.

Hansel echoes her, and attacks the sandwiches. Ben sits there on the foot of the bed and chatters about the place's amazing library for a while before Gretel shoos him away so Hansel can rest. He's always tired after a seizure, and tonight is no exception. He's asleep almost the instant he finishes devouring his food, and Gretel tucks the blankets up around him and tiptoes off through the adjoining door to find her own massive bed and to curl up in the middle of it hoping Edward has found somewhere comfortable to be.

The next morning she hears something in Hansel's room and kicks the door open on instinct, lowering her bow when the presence turns out to be a doctor, squinting at Hansel's vials and telling them what they had come to suspect. The last batch had been thin, and this solution is much closer to pure, requiring a dosage adjustment. Finally they come to a tentative accord, get Hansel's timer reset, and can join the others for breakfast.

Each place at the table has an alarming amount of dainty, gilded cutlery, but at least breakfast is 'informal' and they can just pass the dishes and serve themselves like normal people. Normal people whose tableware is gold and porcelain. It's a relief to find that even Lords in the southern cities eat porridge like normal people, and that a lot of the extra utensils are meant for condiments. Hansel still handles the smaller ones like a dog trying to paint, but manages to salt his porridge with no actual disasters. He's not taking any chances this morning, sticking to that and fresh fruit while Gretel samples everything else, scouting for both of them.


	6. Mission: Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the hunt takes a whole new (definitely not Hansel-approved) direction.

Lily watches Hansel, big blue eyes curious and shy. It's almost the way Ben had looked at Gretel in the beginning and sometimes still does. God save them from their fanbase. Lily at least is far less forward. She just sits there beside Genevieve, looking like a white rose among red ones. The Von Meer family has Moorish blood, giving them rich gold skin and black curls, while Lily is one of those pink and white girls whose very eyelashes are fair. She looks through them at Hansel, who has no idea because he's dim-witted like that. Lily practically faints dead away whenever he passes her a dish and Gretel sighs inwardly and decides to keep her brother in the dark, at least for now. Aside from his native stupidity he's been in no mood since Augsburg and wouldn't be allowed to touch the merchandise here, anyway.

Afterward they have an actual proper meeting with Lord Von Meer, who seems very relieved to be faced with an apparently sober Hansel. The door of his opulent office shuts behind them and he gestures for them to be seated on chairs whose brocaded upholstery makes them very nervous. He asks them why they've come so far south of their normal range, and frowns to hear the answer. He has read enough of the lore to know that any specialization in victims is something to worry about. More personally, the creature had attacked a well-loved and particularly beautiful virgin girl and will presumably need more of the same.

"Good God, this city will be a feast for her."

"It will?" Ben asks.

"The Season starts in a week!"

None of them have any idea what he's talking about besides Gretel, who is enough of a typical girl to remember tales of winter balls and formal masques down in the southern cities. It is during the winter social Season that every family with any money or rank for miles around brings its daughters to the city to marry them off. "Yes," Lord Von Meer says, "not every virgin at these engagements is genuine, but most of them are, as well as being the apples of their parents' eyes. Further, a great many of the events are public, and with foreign guests and new money, disguise would be almost childishly easy." He pauses, brooding. "It doesn't help that I have a good friend's daughter under my protection. I can never thank you enough for what you've already done for me, and hesitate to ask any more…"

In the end, they go back to the inn to collect their gear and settle into the ridiculous guest rooms for the duration. With Lord Von Meer's countenance it's suddenly easy to get the right permits to bring Edward into the city. The peacebonds stay on, but they're really more decorative than restrictive, and Edward is just glad to rejoin the group. He would be even more out of place in a Von Meer guest room than they are and stays in the courtyard, making himself a bed out of horse blankets and hay in the unoccupied end of the stable. Gretel makes sure that he's warm enough and that the kitchen understands the true meaning of 'fresh meat and plenty of it,' before leaving him to his own devices. They've been teaching him to read so he'll have something to do when they don't need anything wrecked, and animals actually don't mind him much after they have a moment to get used to him. Soon enough he's visiting his equine neighbors and having long conversations that consist of nickering and grunting, and it seems like he'll be pretty comfortable.

Hansel just wishes he could predict the same for himself. They've talked a little bit about blending in, but it's only after Edward is installed and they're fully committed that he realizes they'll actually have to attend these fucking things. He stares at their host in horror.

"But I'm not even as classy as Gretel! I'll fuck it up. Can't I just pretend to be a bodyguard or something?"

Lord Von Meer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. They're in his office again, and he has had the foresight to pour everyone a drink first. "No one brings bodyguards to these things, Mr… Do you and your sister actually have a surname, Hansel?"

He shrugs. "Last time the law wanted us to put something down we just used 'Hunter.'"

"Well, Mr. Hunter, it would be an enormous breach of etiquette to imply that the security of one's host was insufficient. So a bodyguard would be even more conspicuous than new money from the north, which is what you will be passing as. I will provide clothing, my wife will provide as much training as she can, and excuses will be provided as necessary."


	7. Camouflage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins.
> 
> Also, Hansel dreams again.

The last time anyone measured either of them for clothes they were young enough to do it in the same room, and Hansel kind of misses that as Lady Von Meer whisks Gretel away to a seamstress and casts Ben and Hansel upon the tailor's mercy. Hansel can't help but tense at having to strip down to his braies in front of some old man he's never met.

"My god," he says, taking the linen hem between thumb and forefinger, "are they really still wearing these up north?"

"Yes," Hansel growls through gritted teeth, "they are."

"We're going to have to do this from the skin up, then, because there's no way breeches will lay right otherwise."

Hansel closes his eyes for a moment and commends himself to god. Mercifully, for now it's just height, waist, inseam, and other usual things. The tailor whistles as he stretches his tape across Hansel's shoulders and around his arms. "It'll be a real pleasure to design for someone with decent lines, you know that?"

"Uh, thanks?" Hansel glances at the fashion plates on the wall and does his best not to cringe.

"I'll have to see what they put your sister in, but I'm thinking dark green for you…"

"Could be worse," Hansel mutters, and the tailor just laughs.

That done, Lady Von Meer and Genevieve start in earnest on the thankless task of teaching their guests about precedence and salad forks and formal dancing. They ask if Hansel knows how to dance, and look a bit horrified at his answer.

"Uh, village dancing? You know, get a little drunk, grab the first girl that'll let you and spin."

Gretel laughs, and Genevieve actually blushes. Apparently taking your partner into your arms isn't done here. A lot of things aren't, and Hansel is sure he will never remember them all.

Ben is hopeless at first, but his brain is like flypaper for useless information even if he can't so much as walk through the staid circles of "proper" dancing without tripping over his feet.

Edward actually does better just observing through the window and trying the step on his own out of boredom. He can move his massive body so quickly on the attack that Hansel feels stupid to be surprised at how light on his feet Edward is now, frowning and grumbling and doing the dainty little ankle-crosses and the bowing and the turns and everything.

He stops at last and rumbles, "Stupid," in the most decisive of tones, and Gretel bursts out laughing.

That night Hansel dreams of the fox again. This time she saves him from a ballroom full of marionettes, guiding him out of the web of strings. He runs as fast as he can, yanking yards of choking lace off of his neck and flinging aside something that looks like a goddamned corset. A moment later and they're in the forest and he's back in his own clothes, in the way of dreams. Hansel takes a deep breath and smiles down at the fox, who's closer than she's ever come.

"Thanks, Red," he says, and the very tip of her pink tongue lolls out in a vulpine smile. Hansel crouches barely an arm's length away and studies her, watching as her face goes sharp and sad again, ears cocked out to the sides the way a cat does when it's nervous. "Why are you following me, honey?" He's not sure what answer he's expecting, and wakes up as she bolts into the underbrush. He opens his eyes and feels like crying.

"Sis? Hey, sis!" He bangs on Gretel's door despite the hour, and she answers at first alert, then annoyed, and finally stunned when he says, "We gotta talk about my dreams."

Hansel can't quite articulate what it is about his dreams that grips him. He just can't shake the feeling that there's something he has forgotten, or something he needs to do. He sips some honey to see if he's on the verge of tears because his sugar levels are too low, but it doesn't help. His chest feels tight, and there's no way he can go back to sleep again. They wake Ben and head down to the library. He yawns and blinks, rubbing his eyes and perking up immediately at how fascinatingly weird Hansel's inexplicable sorrow is. He really is a creepy little bastard, but a good researcher. They have access to all of Lord Von Meer's books at any hour, so they can light the lamps and haul out every text that looks relevant. They're still not sure what it means for Hansel to be the son of a witch, and all of them miss Mina more than ever as they try and sift truth from hearsay, limited to books in the vernacular.


	8. Dress the Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes do some investigating. And are then caught and dressed up, like kittens being put into doll clothes.

The maid finds them there in the morning, Ben slumped over the main table with his head pillowed on his arms, Gretel curled up in one of the deep armchairs with her brother's coat over her for warmth, and no sign of Hansel until he comes out of the labyrinth of shelves with another massive book to add to the disorderly piles of them on the table and every other surface. They're all filled with markers, the ribbon ones Lord Von Meer generally uses and bits of scrap paper as well, and even a thin lock of Gretel's hair, pulled out and pressed to the purpose. Hansel stops, standing there in his nightshirt, pants, and bare feet, dust in his hair.

"Uh. Hi. Good morning?"

"Yes, sir, it is morning. I'm here to light the fires and dust."

"Oh. Right. Sorry 'bout all this."

She assures him that it's quite all right, and gets to work. Lord Von Meer sometimes leaves books lying out, so there is at least a procedure for this, which is to get the fires lit and then just dust around the research. She's not trying to spy, but sees that they're all about dreams and magic, as well as some on symbolism.

"Are you finding what you need, sir?"

"Haven't found it yet, but there's still a chance."

"Very true, sir."

Hansel just grimaces and buries his face in the pages again.

At breakfast they find out that Lady Von Meer will be spending today outfitting both Lily and Genevieve, leaving them free to actually do some hunting. Ben isn't very good at this part yet, and hangs back as Hansel and Gretel collect all the local stories and gossip they can lay hands on. They're working in Lowtown, of course. They know how to move here, and how to ask the right questions. No one tells them about missing girls, but they run into too many people who haven't been sleeping well. Nightmares have been going around like a sickness, and incidence of sleepwalking is up, too.

By the time they make their way to the Von Meer house again, too late for the evening meal, they're hoping to god they're not dealing with a nighthag. Worried as they are, they relish the supposed disappointment of leftovers in the kitchen with the cook. She's a kind old lady who makes them sandwiches of beef dripping on fresh bread and clucks over their orphaned state as she slices a platter of fruit. She also sympathizes with having to go among the quality without having been trained for it since birth. 

"My oldest girl's husband will be serving at a lot of these parties, and I'll tell him to look out for you. He's the tallest one, and has tow-colored hair and freckles, so you'll know him when you see him."

"Thank you kindly, grandmother," Hansel says, and Gretel remembers anew why old ladies almost always like him. The cook just smiles and gives them some cold meat as well. She sees that all of them are well fed before they wander off, dropping Ben off at the library because he has (of course) thought of a few more obscure things to look up.

"Hansel," he asks, arranging one of the massive stacks, "Is it a boy fox or a girl fox?"

"Vixen," Hansel tells him. "I haven't looked under its tail or anything, but I'm pretty sure it's a girl fox."

"Right." Ben makes a note of it and then dives into their accumulated pile of leads. Hansel and Gretel retire to the barn to clean weapons, visit Edward, and discuss their growing misgivings. Their quarry is possibly a nighthag and almost certainly a grand witch at the very least. The nightmares point to the former, and no garden variety dark witch would come to a place this densely populated and expect to go un-torched for long.

They spend the next few days the same way, and then Lady Von Meer catches them and drags them away for final fittings. Ben escapes the worst of it, dressed as their young cousin in an age-appropriate style much less ostentatious than what Hansel will be stuck with. Boys do their own coming-out, and they do it later than girls. Ben can still pass for a child on holiday from school in plain grey wool and decently-cut trousers. He even gets to keep his braies, where Hansel has to cram himself into underbreeches and then another pair of what looks like the same thing only longer. They're a pale buff color, and mold to every line of his legs. And other places. The damn things are like a second skin, and Hansel is sure he's blushing as he buttons them at the hip. The tailor doesn't seem to notice, gleefully going on about what a good figure Hansel has. Hansel just grimaces and pulls on the new singlet, which isn't so very different from his old one, and risks a glance at the fashion plates.

"No corsets."

The tailor laughs. "You actually have shoulders, you won't need one."

Gretel does need a corset, but has the advantage of wearing one anyway, as well as of a slightly more assertive nature than her brother's. Gretel's usual corset is leather and steel, shaped to her body rather than the other way around. It serves is purpose as a foundation garment as well as forming a strong, light layer between her skin and non-magical harm. This thing they've got her in is flimsy and it pinches. The servant girls keep hauling the laces tighter, and finally she yanks herself free of them.

"Enough! I can't hunt anything if I can't fucking breathe!"

Everyone gasps in horror, and Gretel sighs, reaching behind her back and tying her own laces with the ease of long practice. "I can apologize for my bad language, but I can't be more pinched than this and still run."

In the end they decide to say that Gretel is an athlete and unused to tightlacing, which is very nearly the truth anyway.


	9. The Opening Ball of the Season (God Help Us)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which parties are awful.

The next few days are all about contrast, fittings and peerage memorization against trips to Lowtown. Lucky for them their fame hasn't really spread this far south and they don't look much like the prints anyway.

"I think it says a lot," Hansel grumbles during one of their last dance lessons, "that I'd rather be fighting the Serpent Witch again than doing this."

"It's not _that_ bad," Gretel answers, executing a precise and prim turn, "but I have to agree that I don't see the point."

The dancemaster just hisses between his teeth as Genny and Lily giggle. "The point, Miss Hunter, is to move correctly, and with modesty and grace."

Hansel snorts, and gets the next two steps wrong.

That night he dreams of the fox again. He's standing waist-deep in a clear pool, and he looks up to see her watching him from the bank.

"Please stay," he says, looking into those dark eyes. The fox runs again, but this time Hansel opens his eyes knowing that he'll see her in the waking world. It makes him nervous, being so sure with absolutely no reason for it.

The next evening finds the household in the grip of measured chaos. Lady Von Meer rushes around making certain that Genny and Lily are both perfect in their immaculate white gowns, and fussing over her guests and her husband as well.

Hansel grimly dons his clothes. The clinging trousers and stockings, the ruffled, over-starched shirt and the thrice-damned cravat. At least the coat is all right, deep green velvet that would actually be serviceable camouflage in a summer forest. It doesn't cover as much as he'd like, and he grits his teeth and steps out into the corridor. Gretel meets him there a moment later, and he can't help but stare. Necklines are low this season.

"…Are you sure you're not going to pop out of that?" Each breath makes it seem like the bodice is going to give way, but it hasn't yet. She just snorts and glances down and then back up.

"I could ask you the same question."

He blushes, trying to pull the coat around his hips, the cutaway merciless. "Can't believe the bastards talk about modesty and dress like this in public."

"We'll be exposed together, then. Come on."

Every Season opens with the ball at Clarion's, and has for decades. It was where Lady Von Meer had come out years ago, and where Genny and Lily did just last Season. She chatters away, bright and nervous while Gretel does her best to listen, feeling trapped in the closeness of the carriage. Her skin prickles and burns and makes her suddenly desperate not to embarrass this kind woman who has already done so much.

"Lady Von Meer…"

"My dear, don't be nervous. You have a natural bearing, and if you can just not swear and smile when spoken to, we'll be quite all right."

Gretel does her best to keep this in mind, but is still unfashionably grave as the gentlemen of their party collect their ladies at the door and escort them in. Some arch banter, giggling, or at least a smile are generally expected of young ladies on these occasions, but Gretel just takes her brother's arm and scans the room with her dark, level gaze. The young girls are like white and barely-pastel blossoms in a field, hemmed in by doting mammas and chaperones, aunts, reputable friends of the family, and guardians. Gretel's favored black is for spinsters, and only married women wear the rich jewel tones that really suit her. She sighs in her icy lilac, and fights her sudden fear of actually continuing down the long stairs to join them.

"Must be hell on the laundresses," Hansel mutters, and Gretel smiles at last.

"True."

There's a tall, severe-looking servant who announces everyone, and his voice thunders out as the Von Meers pack themselves and their guests down the stairs in the correct order. Lord and Lady first, then their daughter, then her lower-born but still gently-bred friend, and last of all the callow guests from the north, both of them disoriented and claustrophobic in the sudden crush of humanity. There is a nearly safe alcove waiting for them, and they manage to fight their way to it and settle at a table to catch their breath. Lady Von Meer smiles reassuringly, and then casts the gentlemen to the wolves again to fetch refreshments. The babel of conversation is loud and fills Gretel's ears.

"I still say Victoria should've worn white, because you know what they say—"

"—about girls who read too much, that it's bad for their manners and their—"

"—coxcombs, the lot of them, and I don't care!"

"From the north, they say, and I shouldn't wonder if—"

"—Hilda, you are to go nowhere near that Mr. Hunter, do you understand?"

Lady Von Meer rolls her eyes, and waves to another grand lady who floats along in cloth of gold, shepherding two girls in white gowns ahead of her. "Lady Ashland! Lady Ashland, please come and be introduced to Miss Hunter."

Gretel cannot believe it when Lady Ashland actually smiles and comes over, newly-out nieces and all. She's still there when Hansel and Lord Von Meer arrive, wine carafes and the currently fashionable absurd little cakes in hand. Hansel holds the wine, of course. The cakes are white sugar fondant nightmares, decorated with little hard candies like horrible little jewels. Gretel meets his eyes and does her best to give him strength.


	10. Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feral children do not like dances.

Hansel has hardly run from anything in his life, but he wants to run now. He's hemmed in on both sides, there's confectionary on his plate, and there are people he doesn't know looking at him. Looking at him in these ridiculous, _motherfucking_ immodest (whatever anyone says) clothes, and some of the people doing the looking are girls. It seems ungrateful to think that this is hell, but he can't really stop himself. The cake gleams up at him like the leer of a whoremaster, and he shivers. At least the wine is dry, and he sips it with eyes up like he's drinking at a noisy stream, taking comfort in the sour taste.

"And how are you finding the southlands, Mr. Hunter?" The kid has an incredibly sweet voice. It's weirdly trained, like a flute would sound if it could talk, and she looks like she has never so much as had an improper thought. She terrifies Hansel as only perfect and unmarred things can.

"Uh… Interesting?" He casts a desperate glance to Gretel, seated on his other side.

"We've found the weather mild and the people hospitable. We're sadly untraveled within our own country."

"And this is a he—a great deal nicer than the desert." This is a complete lie. The desert had been hot and dry and merciless, but the hazards had been clearly labeled, and there had been a certain honesty to a landscape where everything had been trying to kill them. The girls had frightened him less, too. They were shy and wary, with sharp bones and copper and gold skin seasoned by sun and wind and reality, straight dark hair wrapped in scarves, and eyes that were either bird-black or grey-green and had looked into him and out the other side. Even when one of them had actually propositioned him and even though they had had to converse in signs, it had been easy to explain. That another girl had been very important to him and had died, and that he still isn't over it. The nomad girl had looked at him with her glass green eyes and nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and walking away. He misses that simplicity.

Nevermind that here a chaste kiss on the cheek is probably reserved for after your damn handfasting. At least the desert line gives him an opening, and he can ignore that fucking cake and tell these wide-eyed child-women about stabby cacti and how bad-tempered camels are. He mentions the nomad girls, but of course only in their capacity of hauling water and standing up to unruly camels. He doesn't even mention what shrewd merchants they are, because he's not sure if this version of Mr. Hunter would've even been involved in the haggling, or if he and his sister would've had people for that. Still, it gets him through the first half hour or so. It's pretty unbearable, because Lady Von Meer introduces them to pretty much everyone who comes by in a mixture of the sentiments of a real lady and of sheer bloody-mindedness. The old women appraise them with eyes like silver knives and butcher's scales, and the young ones hang there in their soft colors, doing their best to flush prettily and giggle in the right places. This is all so fucking alien, and the men are no comfort at all. They might as well be another species.

Gretel is doing a bit better, but both of them clutch their glasses and struggle to acclimate as people make their complex circuits, greeting friends and enemies in a tangled web that the Hunter siblings do their best to follow. Some of the women look at Gretel like they want to scratch her eyes out, and a lot of the men do their genteel best to screen whichever lady they're escorting from Hansel. This part is as least familiar, and they share a smile as a particularly stiff-backed gentleman does his best not to actually haul his younger sister away by the arm.

And then the dancing starts, god help them. The only mercy is that Hansel's partner is a friend of Lady Von Meer's, and that Gretel is dancing with their host, because there's apparently some obscure regulation about that due to her age. He's supposed to be more of a father to Lily, who's on the other end of the floor and looking timidly up at her partner, the son of a friend of the family. The fact that there are rules for all of this makes Hansel feel faintly nauseated with terror.

"Relax." Lady Obidalla's whole family is Moorish, so her skin is the most beautiful, rich, near-black Hansel has ever seen, and her teeth are like a flash of snow against it. "I'm fully prepared for how bad you may be at this, I had to help teach my sons."

He can't help but smile back. "I'll do my best, your ladyship."

The dancing is still horrible, but at least they both have someone understanding to drag them through it. Lady Obidalla's arms are like steel, and she keeps Hansel from mis-stepping too badly. It's a bit like being an only half-broken horse, but he survives. Finally, they end up back where they were, there's a break in the music, and Hansel flees. Well, all right. He decorously walks his partner back to her table, and _then_ flees. There's some kind of garden out back, and Hansel doesn't stop until he's outside and able to see a few stars through the glare, soothed by the sound of wind through the ornamental trees.

He's the only one out here. It's too early for any young lovers have to made their escape, and Hansel feelslike he can breathe again as he heads for the far end, stepping across a tiny, artificial stream with a faint sneer at the ridiculous little bridge built for the purpose. There are paper lanterns hung in the trees, but he doesn't mind those. They're pretty. He hopes Gretel is holding her own, and feels like a coward for not immediately going back to check. But dammit, this is high society, it's not _actually_ going to kill them. It just feels like it.

He sighs and settles onto a little bench tucked into the darkest corner. It's soothing to just stare into space for a while, and he nearly jumps out of his skin at quick movement in the undergrowth. He's tensed for anything but what he sees. It's the fox from his dreams, but he's awake. ….Right? Fuck! The fox just looks at him the way it always does, and comes a little closer, ears pricked forward. It's such a pretty creature, and as always, there's something familiar about it. The fox reminded him of someone the first time he saw her, but he still can't say who. Now he just stares into those dark eyes as it comes closer.


	11. Contacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gretel is a detective and Hansel makes a new friend.

After the first dance, Gretel isn't quite sure what to do with herself. She curtseys to Lord Von Meer and then drifts over to a sofa, absently fanning herself. At a village dance, she would be getting a drink or asking the nearest appealing boy to another round. Here of course she is supposed to be a lady, and ladies wait to be asked, and don't do any dancing vigorous enough to make themselves thirsty. She can't see Hansel anywhere, and can only assume he has escaped to the garden, the bastard. She sighs, letting the fan dangle from her wrist again, and gets up to procure more wine, sipping it as she listens to the flow of conversation around her. It seems the quality have been having nightmares along with everyone else, and Gretel can feel her ears trying to prick up at one particular exchange concerning a debutante who is missing this dance to catch up on lost sleep.

Once Gretel has picked out a few names, she's able to get Lady Von Meer to introduce her to the girls that seem to know the absent one best. All three are young and beautiful, and soon Gretel is sitting with Miss Teresa Skyholt's self-professed dearest friends. All three wear frothy white gowns and a fortune in dainty jewelry. None of them is a day over seventeen, and all are terribly sorry for Teresa. Gretel gives them her own and her brother's untouched cakes as part of their schoolgirl hoard of souvenirs for their absent friend, and listens to Teresa's woes.

"It really was dreadful, Miss Hunter." Veronica has big brown eyes that seem like they're ordinarily the kind that laugh and sparkle, but now are sober as dark lakes. "I'm staying with her while we're in town, so I was just in the next room when it happened." She shivers, white silk rustling. "She screamed and screamed and we couldn't wake her. She actually got up and tried to walk out in her sleep, and fought when we stopped her."

"And now to have to miss the ball as well," one of the others clucks, putting a comforting arm around Veronica.

Gretel makes sympathetic noises and looks around for her brother, who's still nowhere in sight. Veronica is truly worried about her friend, but after repeating what the apothecary had said and outlining all the soothing potions Teresa had had to take to get back to even thin sleep and hoping that it was just a nasty touch of hysterics she lets the other two (a pair of redheaded sisters and apparently more frivolous by nature) turn the conversation to the topic of beaux. Gretel does her best to follow it, because she doesn't know much about being escorted, dropping handkerchiefs, or artfully contriving to flash her ankle. Why the last even matters with everyone's tits hanging out Gretel does not even begin to question, because there is no sensible answer. She knows still less about poetry, but can at least join in on a survey of the room from behind their fans and a subsequent discussion of each gentleman's merits. Gretel keeps her own personal count of which of them are hung like horses, for her own amusement if nothing else.

Veronica has high hopes her for her first season, and tries not to pity Gretel's rural youth too obviously. Gretel appreciates the effort, and gives them the edited version of their past that she and Hansel have hammered out. That they come of humble and unremarkable beginnings, were orphaned by sickness, and have made their new fortune on gold from the mountain streams. This allows both for their lack of graces, and their callused hands and wilderness lore. The girls are fascinated, of course, and keep Gretel answering questions until her wayward brother finally comes back. He has something cradled in his arms, and the people around him stop and stare. Gretel is up in an instant, distantly noting that the green suits Hansel, and that the fox in his arms looks like it was put there for artistic effect.

"Hansel, what's this?"

"A tame fox." He gives her a look that says it's probably a lot more than that, and that they can discuss it later. At this revelation the girls come crowding around, cooing over the creature's sweet little face and pretty red fur while the men speculate about it escaping from a show and how that's more likely than a private residence, since it has no collar. The fox is unnaturally gentle, but shies away a bit from too much touching, pressing against Hansel for protection. "Wherever she came from, she needs to be fed. Is there any meat here I could give her?"

It turns out that there is, and the old, dignified steward comes up with a dish of cold chicken and another of milk for their little guest. Hansel finds a quiet room and does his best to ignore the gaggle of girls who have tagged along to watch him feed his new pet, who nibbles and laps politely, luxuriant tail swishing.


	12. Other Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hansel dreams again.

Back at the Von Meer house, Hansel feeds his little friend some more food, while having a meal of his own to make sure his next shot won't make him have a fit. He gently strokes her bright fur. "This is the fox from my dream, sis."

"I thought so. She's lovely."

And the fox is lovely, with her dainty black paws on either side of her dish. She eats like a real lady, just as she did at Clarion's, and only flinches a little when Ben comes in. He is of course fascinated by the fox and wants to hear all about the ball, so Gretel shares her findings as Hansel checks the fox for injuries, finding only a slight tear on one of the pads of one back paw. He ties it up for her and agrees with Gretel that the need to meet this Skyholt girl, still a bit distracted.

"You know, I wonder if she's your familiar," Ben pipes up.

"…Seriously?"

"Well, I've been doing some reading, and I'm pretty sure you're a warlock. Y'know, by blood."

It does make sense, considering what Gretel is and what her heart had meant to those witches in Augsburg. Hansel has no way of knowing what it feels like to have a familiar, but he has certainly taken to this little beast, and has the feeling he would have even without having seen her in his dreams. It's late, though, and since they can't find any evil magic on the vixen, the housekeeper gives Hansel a nice little basket and a folded blanket it line it with, and he crawls into his massive bed and watches the fox make three circles in her basket and then curl into a neat ball with her tail over her nose. Her eyes stay open, wary in the opulent room. Hansel knows the feeling.

"Easy, girl," he murmurs. "This place ain't all bad."

The fox blinks slowly in the low light of the banked fire, and Hansel dreams.

He's naked in a forest clearing again, but this time there's no fox, just the soft sound of a running spring. It's a perfect, mild summer day, and he pads toward the sound, parting glowing emerald leaves to see Mina standing there in the shallows. She smiles and opens her arms to him. Hansel hasn't done all that much kissing in his life. Whores won't, and many of the grateful kisses in his line of work are from little girls and land on his cheek. He had liked the way Mina did it, though. Hungry and wet, with nipping teeth and bold tongue. She does it now, pulling him close and devouring his mouth. She's so soft and sleek against him, and coos as he gets both hands full of her ass, kneading it lovingly.

"Fuck, Mina…" He breathes as she runs the tip of her tongue around the rim of his ear, and she giggles.

"Good idea." In the way of dreams, they are suddenly lying on the grass together. It's a lot like when this really happened, and Hansel moans softly as Mina presses him onto his back, rising pale and perfect over him. He reaches up with worshipful hands, pulling her down to feel her against his chest, hands tangling in her hair as he kisses her.

Usually Hansel wakes up before the good part, or Mina dies in his arms and it becomes a nightmare, but not this time. This time she just devours his mouth and grinds against him, all sleek and soft and wet. She's not letting him in, which is different from how it really went. When they had really done this she hadn't wasted any time and had just taken him, sucking him in like a hungry mouth and riding him while he stood there in the water and tried not to come instantly.

"Mina," he whimpers, unable to bear any more of her teasing. She smiles down at him, and props up on one arm, breasts hanging in his face as she slips two fingers into herself. Hansel whimpers and sucks one hard pink nipple into his mouth, making Mina shudder and moan softly.

"You know what I wanted to do that first time?" She murmurs, gazing down at him.

"Wh-what?" He mumbles when he realizes that she actually expects a response, and then, "… _Oh_ ," as those fingers slide into him, slick and easy. It feels strange and wrong and so fucking good. He stares up at her with wide eyes that roll back in his head as she finds something inside him and strokes. There had been a girl who had tried this long before he had ever run into Mina, but she had been too rough and he had stopped her, because it hadn't done anything but burn. Now, though. Now he just groans under Mina and lets her fuck him, bracing the heel of her hand against her red-gold mound and rocking into him deep and tender, fingertips so gentle with him that he's almost sobbing with it by the time he finally comes, shattering the dream around him and waking up with sticky sheets, panicking because they're expensive sheets and belong to someone else.


	13. Hags and Heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes gather some information and Ben finally comes out of the library.

Lotte has been in service all her life, and at the wise and worldly age of seventeen, she isn't all that surprised to find Mr. Hunter lurking around the laundry with bed linens in his arms. He turns like a hunted animal when she comes in, and it's all Lotte can do to keep from smiling.

"Have a pleasant night's sleep, sir?"

He blushes badly. "Pretty much, yeah. Uh, where's the soap?"

"We'll take care of it, sir." She does her best not to giggle at the panicked look on his face. "It's on the inside, yes?" She asks, carefully taking the sheets. Mr. Hunter looks as if he's going to die of embarrassment, but nods. "Don't worry about a thing, sir. It'll come right out." Her choice of words is a bit wicked, and Mr. Hunter grimaces.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Seventeen."

"Christ preserve me."

Lotte does laugh at that, and puts the sheet in with the other dirty linen, fetching new ones and going to make Mr. Hunter's bed. The tame fox hides from her, but goes to its master's arms at a little clicking noise of his tongue against his teeth. He cuddles it close like a child with a kitten, and blushes again.

"Uh… so, should I just leave you to it?"

"You might as well, sir." She smiles and adds, "Go feed yourself and your pretty little friend."

Hansel is glad to escape, and takes the fox to the table with him because her manners are so good. Genevieve and Lily coo over her and pass tidbits to Hansel to feed her. She nibbles each one with her razor sharp little teeth, and politely licks Hansel's hand in gratitude after each bite.

"What have you named her, Mr. Hunter?" Genevieve asks.

"Well milady," he says, "I haven't much thought about it. She's just my fox. Aren't you my fox?" He adds softly, scratching the fox behind the ears and making her pant happily.

After breakfast they have to put on ridiculous clothes and go to the Skyholt house to for a formal visit. The Skyholts are another family with Moorish blood, and in Teresa the mixture is perfection. She is the loveliest girl they have ever seen, with tight red-gold curls and black eyes that are huge and doelike, the contrast stark without looking artificial. Her skin is flawless, a rich, satiny pale brown that catches and holds light with a soft glow. Even faded and tired from poor sleep she's so beautiful it hurts. Hansel tries not to stare like an idiot, and Gretel swats the back of his head when no one is looking. It helps a little.

Unfortunately, morning visits are only a quarter of an hour long, so they don't have much time and can only ascertain that her nightmare before the ball wasn't the first, and that her dreams frighten her too much to speak about. Hansel does his best to get her to smile, too worried for her beauty to make him nervous, and Veronica follows them out, whispering that as far as she can gather, Teresa has been dreaming over and over of the same horrible old crone, like a nightmare version of Hansel's fox. He shudders at the possible connection, and thanks Veronica for her information, asking for more if she can get it.

"Must you do that?" Gretel asks as they walk away, Veronica watching after them.

"Do what?" Hansel blinks at her, and she rolls her eyes. "Oh, never fucking mind." A passing servant gasps, and Gretel growls, savagely making an obscene gesture at his retreating back. "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take, brother."

"I know." He futilely tugs at his cutaway coat, trying to cover these thrice-damned breeches. "Still, at least we've got something to go on, now. She's definitely after Teresa."

Gretel nods. "There's something especially nasty about this one, Hansel. I can feel it in my bones."

"Yeah. Me too." They're both pensive all the way home, and Hansel is glad when the fox jumps into his arms and licks his face like a puppy. After they've ascertained that their schedule is cleared they change into their own clothes and hide out in the barn where Edward does his own version of the fox's ecstatic greeting, grunting sympathetically at Gretel and stroking her cheek with one fingertip. She smiles, and pats his hand. It's nice to be in their own clothes and hanging about in the stable, temporarily safe from dance lessons and lectures on deportment. Gretel is particularly happy to be wearing pants and sharpening her knife, and Hansel grins at her as he trails some hay for the fox to chase and pounce.

"All right, Ben," Hansel says when the boy comes in with a few old but sturdy books in his arms, "what have you got?"

"Well, I've found out a couple things that might interest you, both about the case," he heaves the books onto a hay bale and hops up beside them, "and about yourself."

"Start with the case, you know I’m bashful," Hansel deadpans, and flicks the hay up, watching the fox jump for it and catch it, shaking it like a terrier with a rat before dropping it.

"Well, I think we might be dealing with something pretty damn fucked up. The nightmares point to a night hag instead of a witch, and the choice of victims just keeps leading me to excised accounts of this one unspeakable ritual. I haven't been able to find anything definite about it, just that it's the sacrifice of a beautiful, good, and well-loved young girl, and that it's horrible, which you'd think would be obvious."

"Shit. Well, what about me?"

Ben digs out some notes, looking them over. "Any son of a grand white witch stands a fifty percent chance of being a warlock, and then half of those are grand warlocks. Usually their mothers teach them the trade, but of course you lost the lottery so we've got no idea what your power levels could be or if you're a warlock at all, between your mother's protection and the blessed weaponry."

Hansel nods, and shifts uncomfortably. "How can we find out?"

"There's almost no literature on untrained warlocks, so I'm not sure yet."


	14. Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hansel becomes involved in a gentleman's dispute, and really misses real life.

There are dances every night, with glittering ice sculptures and those damned cakes that make Hansel feel like he needs his serum just looking at them. He gets better at the strange, stiff dancing, and has no idea why so many of the young girls blush to touch his hand but show no sign with all the men wearing a second skin from the waist down. Gretel better understands her effect on the boys. Of course as many of the little cowards despise her as admire her, but the older men who have seen war and what life can do to weak women are drawn to her, and she'd rather dance with a sensible greybeard than the most beautiful of all these young fools. There's another contingent that wants to kill Hansel where he stands for making their belles simper and sigh. As usual. Hansel barely notices, and is terrified by the raw aggression of some of the women who have married doddering or despised old men for money or consequence and get their love on the side. 

He hides from one particularly persistent lady at their table, and then excuses himself to the garden when his alarm goes off. He still feels all right, but it's better safe than sorry. He leans against a tree and jabs himself in the side of his thigh, so the puncture goes through the seam and the tailor won't yell at him. That done he looks up at the stars through the leaves, and decides it would be best for his continued mental health to go for a walk. He doesn't get very far before he finds poor little Veronica sobbing on a bench. Her gown and hair are still neat and he can't see any blood, so it doesn't seem like anyone has hurt her. He sits down beside her and offers her the thin and frilly handkerchief he's been provided with instead of the huge squares of strong cotton he uses in his own life outside this bizarre bubble reality. She dabs at her eyes and blows her nose, hiccupping a little.

"What's wrong, girl?" Hansel says when she's a little quieter.

"Oh, Mr. Hunter," her voice cracks, "I've been having the most horrible dreams! Now I know why Teresa won't talk about it. It feels like I would die of fright if I did."

Hansel ponders this a moment, then says, "Let me have a look at your mouth, I might know what's wrong."

The girl doesn't misunderstand, and opens just as she would for a doctor. It's her cousin's friend who misunderstands. He's an impetuous sort of person, and he finds his precious and pure ladylove with her delicate chin cupped in that barbaric Hunter fellow's rough palm, sweet rosebud mouth open and apparently about to be kissed, a liberty she has allowed no one so far as he knows. In truth, Hansel is pulling away, sick at heart to find the foul residue of a silencing spell in that pretty mouth.

"Hunter!" The boy barks, "Unhand that lady!"

Hansel immediate puts both hands up. "Hey, it wasn't like that. I was checking her for sickness."

"A likely story! Come away, Veronica." He holds out a hand and Veronica glares at him, expressive eyes flashing anger through her tears.

"You don't own me, Heinrich!" She stuffs the soiled handkerchief into her reticule and brushes an errant lock of hair off of her face, sitting up ramrod straight. "Even if you did, Mr. Hunter has given you no reason to doubt his word."

Heinrich just snorts, and Veronica gets even angrier and Hansel looks around helplessly for his sister, who only arrives in time to hear the challenge hurled: First blood at dawn, Hansel choosing the weapon. Guns are out, though. Too lethal. Hansel asks if there has to be any weaponry at all, and finding that there doesn't, accepts with bare fists and names Gretel his second before anyone can tell him what a massive insult his opponent will take it as. Seething, the boy names his dog as his second, and Hansel starts to lose his temper. He spends the night sulking and cuddling the fox after being unable to get Henrich to see reason, and wakes up in the same bad humor. Dawn is late because of the time of year, so they have all morning to sit around and feel bad for getting the Von Meer name even obliquely involved in this stupidity. When they get to the field of honor they find that the boy has actually brought his dog, a yapping spaniel.

"I see our seconds are well matched!" He calls, and Hansel cracks his knuckles.

"All right, that's it. I was gonna be nice and now I'm not."

Gretel nods in approval. "Just remember, you can only use your hands. Because this is completely stupid."


	15. Blowing Your Cover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hansel wins a duel and both our heroes must scour the city in search of a common flower.

Heinrich has been carefully trained in fisticuffs, but he has to admit to some trepidation when Hunter hands his coat off to that mannish sister of his and Heinrich can get a better look at his powerful arms. Still, he can't back down now, especially not with Veronica's honor at stake. A lord bound to none of the houses involved officiates, explaining the rules and the condition, and then waves them forward as the sun rises. Heinrich is well-trained, but he's not anticipating an opponent who moves as quickly as a wild animal only to hit him open-handed, boxing one ear. The pain and the ringing throw him off-balance, and then Hunter is growling, "My sister is no dog, boy," in his good ear before pain erupts from his jaw to the rest of his head and everything goes dark.

It's more satisfying than it should be to knock Heinrich down, bloodying the boy on his own teeth. Works the same way with witches, razor-sharp fangs cutting iron-hard skin. Gretel slides Hansel's coat over his shoulders for him. "Done, then?"

"Looks like it." He's just starting to worry that he has really hurt the boy when Heinrich sits up. Satisfied that his foe will be right as a trivet (the short ones are nothing to worry about, as Hansel knows from experience) Hansel bows and leaves with the others. Veronica's honor seen to, the Skyholts will presumably let Mr. and Miss Hunter visit. When they do, they'll bring bluefrost to wash the taint from Veronica's mouth. But first they'll have to find some. The stuff is a damned weed where they come from, but no one in this benighted place can understand what they want. It's not even that far out of season, since the bluefrost needs the first frost of the year to bloom. They both describe it to apothecaries across the city to no avail and until they become short-tempered and Hansel is bellowing, "Bluefrost, dammit! Little round flower, thirteen pointed petals that shade to white at the tips, center like a Black-eyed Susan! at people.

"Wait…" One old apothecary finally says when given this description, "I think you mean _caelum oculo_."

Hansel groans, head in his hands. "Fuck, do we?" They're in their own clothes again, but it's small comfort with an errand that should have taken half an hour has instead taken four. It turns out that they do mean _caelum oculo_ when the apothecary hauls out a dusty old book and shows them a picture.

"Thank god," Gretel mutters.

"People around here call it eyebloom," the apothecary says, "But I'm still one of the only places to stock the stuff. How much would you be wanting?"

"We might need as much as half a pound dried. 'Spose it's too much to hope you've got fresh?"

"Not too much at all." He smiles at them, warm and grandfatherly. "I grow it in boxes. I charge a bit more for it, of course, but I'm sure you know it's more potent. How much will you need?"

"Just a quarter pound, if you can assure supply if we need more."

The apothecary can assure supply, and they finally have their damned bluefrost, delicate stems and fragile blossoms wrapped in damp burlap and tucked into Hansel's coat against the cold. Bluefrost is a strange little flower, with a very short season and seeds that lie dormant through the summer, only to bloom after the first frost of autumn. With a drop of blood from a white witch, it can be used to wash away foul enchantment residues. They have to change before they can head to the Skyholt house, because in their normal clothes they'd be lucky to get in at the kitchen door. It seems to take forever, but they finally exit the carriage in front of the Skyholt house to be admitted by the butler, who is pale and drawn.

The whole place is in an uproar, because poor Veronica has been vomiting leeches since finally overcoming her terror enough to describe one of her nightmares an hour ago. She's surrounded by buckets of the wriggling things, maids vomiting in sympathy. Gretel grimaces and sends Hansel out, kneeling beside the girl and wiping her mouth with the bluefrost. The vomiting stops, and Veronica spits out a last few leeches, crying. Gretel hushes her and pushes the flowers into her mouth.

"Eat those, and you'll feel better."

Normal people can't feel a silencing spell or taste it, but they do know when one is removed. Veronica's sobs take on the shattered notes of relief, and Gretel holds her as the maids take the leeches away. "Thank you," Veronica whimpers at last.

"Of course." Gretel rubs the girl's back a while longer, knowing that Hansel is off questioning servants and examining leeches.

They have to let the Skyholts in on who they really are, of course. There's no way around that after curing Veronica like that, but at least they have the family's gratitude.


	16. Sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get worse.

Free of the silencing spell, Veronica can tell them about her dream. It was of the same crone from Teresa's dreams, laughing and beckoning her close as shadows crept in all around. Like a lot of spelled dreams, the bare description isn't very frightening. Then again, neither is, "Hansel and Gretel came upon a house made of candy" and look how that shit turned out. Hansel shudders as he takes notes and Gretel checks Teresa for a silencing spell to avoid another misunderstanding. Veronica shivers and holds a blanket tightly around her shoulders, sipping clear water. Teresa turns out not to be under a silencing spell, but all her descriptions and memories of her dreams have been less clear. Veronica can give them the witch's description. With her long claws and glowing red eyes, the thing is surely a nighthag, stalking her prey through their dreams before finally claiming their bodies in the waking world.

The first step is to ward the beds. They strip all the linens and take them to the laundry, where Gretel blesses a whole cauldron of water and dumps everything in. With the laundresses washing them, Hansel and Gretel go back to the girls' rooms, which adjoin like their own do at the Von Meer home. They carve protective runes on the undersides of the slats and Gretel puts a drop of blood on each leg, and one on the headboard and one on the foot. With new blessed bedding and the blood and the runes, the beds should be reasonably safe. The Skyholts still want to send Veronica away, but she puts her foot down. This is her first Season and no one is going to stop her from enjoying it, not even a nighthag.

Hansel and Gretel make a few last checks, and consent to sleep over at the Skyholts's for the night after going back to the Von Meers's and warding Genevieve and Lilly's beds. They bring weaponry and the whistle they use to call Edward over long distances, hoping he'll be able to hear it over the noise of the city if they need him. The fox rides in a basket, the handle looped over Hansel's arm. She has become rather less shy lately, and Genevieve has been able to brush her coat until it shines red gold, and has tied a blue ribbon around her neck, the bow off to one side and still pristine, because the fox hasn't shaken it off. She's still just fox or vixen to Hansel, but Genevieve has started calling her Sunrise, and he guesses that's as good a name as any.

"Okay, Sunny, make yourself comfortable," He says, setting the basket on the floor by his bed and then stashing his weapons in easy grabbing distance. She trots around the room, sniffing curiously at things, bushy tail flicking. Hansel smiles as he hauls his shirt over his head, then leaves his singlet and braies on, really not wanting to explain anything to the Skyholts. Sunrise looks at him curiously, and he blushes. "Human stuff, fox. Don't even ask." He climbs into bed and hauls the covers up, blowing out the lamp and watching as Sunrise makes her three circles by firelight, before settling into the basket, half-open eyes gleaming.

Hansel sleeps, and Hansel dreams. It turns out that he was right to wear his braies to bed because he dreams of a boat on a river and lying in the bottom of it, watching the blue sky as someone sucks his cock exactly the right way. He manages to raise his head to see Mina before letting it thump back again as she laughs and gets back to work. Just before he wakes up, he could swear she has the tail of a fox, flicking behind her like a streamer of fire.

Hansel wakes up with his braies sticking to him and is deeply embarrassed at the way Sunrise watches him as he gets up and peels out of them, snatching up a dressing gown and creeping down to the laundry. Luckily for him, there's no saucy little maid down here to discomfit him, and he gets the braies washed and hung in his room well before breakfast. Sunrise smiles at him, and he blushes and scratches her behind the ears. "Just what are you playing at, girl?" He murmurs. He's almost expecting an answer, but of course the fox is silent and just trots down to breakfast after him, accepting tidbits from the table with no begging, like the lady she is.

Everyone has slept well, and after some questioning and looking around, they return to the Von Meer house and gird their loins for more genteel combat. With her main target's bed warded, the nighthag will presumably step up her efforts in the waking world, and they will have to be ready.

They watch all the debutantes at every ball, and it is exhausting. It doesn't help that laces are nearly as tight this Season as necklines are low, and that many girls are as pinched and pale from fashion as from nightmares. Teresa Skyholt is sinking, though. Every night her beautiful skin is closer to ashy grey, and Veronica frets endlessly over her poor friend, a knot of debutantes always surrounding them both, like a cloudfield.


	17. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a real witch at a masked ball.

The next large occasion is a public masque, and just the kind of thing for a prowling witch. With costumes required, they have to throw themselves on their hostess's mercy once again. Fashions for masques change by the Season as others do, and this year it's all about mythic creatures, angels and demons, as well as generally being very free and bohemian (but only at masques) and wearing daring and exigent costumes. A lot of men will be going bare-legged, but of course this isn't an option for poor scarred Hansel. He would be just as happy to go as Death or Father Time, but such dreary figures are so out of fashion as to stand out more than any outrageousness, and the tailor has plans of its own.

"You are my satyr, Mr. Hunter," he says, prowling around Hansel. "I have had this idea for many years, but you are the only man of the right type to come to me with no choice."

"Thanks," Hansel mutters.

"Let us see… I have your waist and your inseam already. Sit down, Mr. Hunter, I shall need to measure your feet."

Hansel doesn't know how he'll dare to wear the finished product in public. There is no shirt at all, but the trousers at least cover him. Thick and hairy, made of the hide of real wild goats, his legs look like a saytr's legs, and the wood and leather hoof boots complete the illusion. They're cloppy, but he tests them by running up and down the courtyard, yelping and leaping over icy puddles, and finds that he's fast and agile enough in them. They'll do. He's not sure his nipples won't fall off from going around without a shirt in winter, but ballrooms always overheat.

Lily and Genevieve will be going as a bird and a kitten respectively. Genevieve's skin glows dark gold against her brief off the shoulder gown and feline accessories of snow white fur. Lily's ensemble is the same, but with feathers rather than fur, and of course an avian headdress, gloves, and shoes. The pale gold silk and feathers both match her hair, and her big blue eyes blaze like sapphires. The seamstresses have dressed Gretel as a demoness, in red and shimmering scale-pattern fabric. The Von Meers are going as an angel and her mortal lover, and all of them setting out together looks like a dream.

The masque is being held in a vast and glittering mirrored ballroom that reflects the masked revelers back into eternity and makes Hansel dizzy. The Hunter siblings circulate, not taking any of the strange and colorful drinks off of the trays that black-dressed and masked waitstaff carry everywhere.

Sara Von Trall isn't certain where her friends have gotten to. The seven of them are all rainbow fairies together, and since she's pale and has bright red hair, Sara is Green. Indigo was near just a minute ago, but now she's surrounded by some elves and a demon with massive, gilded horns.

And then a lady comes to help her find her friends. Such a nice lady, and so very kind even if Sara's vision is going grey at the edges and something is wrong. Something is so wrong, and she knows she shouldn't follow the lady into the garden. Why would anyone be in the garden? It's a cold night, and there are hardly even any paper lanterns out there. Just enough to be pretty in the trees.

And then a satyr and a demoness are there like a beautiful vision, and the lady's face changes to something horrible. Sara screams and stumbles back. The satyr yells for someone to take care of her, and Lord Von Meer comes and wraps his cloak around her as the satyr and the demoness chase the real witch into the night.

Hansel isn't cold. The running is keeping him warm, satyr hooves clacking on the pavement as he bolts after the witch. They've always had their weapons stashed close at these parties, and are able to snatch them up now. Gretel whistles for Edward, and he roars in answer, cutting the witch off even as Ben gets her in the shoulder with a blessed bullet. She screams and throws a vial that shatters into thick, poisonous green smoke, but they've seen this trick before. Gretel rips panels from her skirt and douses them in blessed water, slapping one over her own nose and mouth and passing the others to Hansel and Ben. Their eyes burn as they dive into the cloud, but they can breathe just fine.

This witch is a grand one, but it's four on one and they're better prepared this time. Also, no hostages to worry about. She still nearly breaks Ben's neck before Edward takes her down and Hansel binds her up. She hisses and snaps at them but can't reach. The middle of the street is nowhere to interrogate a witch, so they drag her into a night watch station. The watchmen stare and stare, and are happy enough to get out of the way of a real witch.


	18. Back In Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes return to a more usual mode of operation.

They've done this a lot in their time, and soon enough they have the witch talking in riddles, blood flowing over her iron-hard skin. Hansel shakes out his hand, battered and bruised by brass knuckles. She claims to serve a greater mistress, and the idea sends chills over the siblings' skin. A low nighthag is bad enough, one powerful enough to have grand witches on her payroll is a thousand times worse. They share a look over the witch's hanging head after Hansel busts her in the mouth again, and realize that Teresa Skyholt is well and truly screwed.

Getting a witch burned in the capital is harder than it should be, but Gretel has figured out a trick of holding a witch by the scruff and making her show her true face, and that helps them get the necessary permits, as does Lord Von Meer's professional opinion and personal honor. The game is up now, of course. They're obviously _that_ Hansel and Gretel, and it's a relief to go back to safe and comfortable leather, and proper braies and trousers. With the witch locked up and awaiting ecclesiastical trial, they go to the Skyholt house to sit by Teresa's bedside. She's still beautiful, and deeply embarrassed to have a man in her chambers. Her old governess sits with them, and Teresa stays covered up to the neck. She stares at Hansel, who doesn't notice. To be fair, he's a bit preoccupied by Sunrise's insistence on coming along. She had yipped and snarled and tried to stow away in Hansel's bag until they had . She's quiet now, sitting at Hansel's feet with her tail curled over her paws like a cat. Hansel sighs, and scratches her behind the ears.

"Damn it, vixen, if this gets bad, clear out."

Sunrise yips what sounds like an affirmative, and Hansel chuckles.

"Just try to sleep, Teresa," Gretel says, and the girl nods, laying her head down again. They've warded the whole room with blood and water, and Ben is outside the door while Edward lurks in the courtyard below, sniffing the wind. All of them are armed to the teeth, and the room glows with the light of all the candles they've brought in. Candles are really Gretel's thing, a good focus for her fledgling power, particularly black and white ones. Parts of the room look almost like a chessboard in wax, there are so many candles. There's also incense hanging in the air, a sweet, pure, floral scent that soothes everyone. It will help them keep their heads if (when) the nighthag attacks.

The moment comes a few minutes after midnight. The governess is nodding and Teresa is fast asleep when the window blows open, letting in a cold wind that reeks of rotting flesh. Hansel and Gretel are on their feet in a second, weapons raised, but there's no corporeal presence at all, just the foul wind and poor Teresa still asleep as she starts to levitate. Ben bursts in, looking around wildly and then screams, a razor-like cut appearing on his cheek. More follow, slicing the wicks of candles and slashing at Ben's skin. Hansel flings himself in front of the boy as Gretel struggles to haul Teresa back down to the mattress with the help of the hysterically sobbing governess. Ben seems even more afraid than the situation warrants as well, and Hansel meets his sister's eyes, both of them recognizing another magical effect. And then the first cut appears on Hansel's hand. They're not as deep as Ben's and not as many, as if he's wearing leather armor, but they still hurt.

Across town the witch changes her face and lies languishing on the stones, occasionally letting out a piteous moan of barely-contained agony until the guard is foolish enough to open the cell to check on her. She bides her time and lets him gather her up, looking deeply into her face before she opens her eyes and changes it back, biting out his throat before he can even scream in horror. Chewing her mouthful, she crouches and looks down into his eyes as they film over.

"Silly boy," she says, using claw-like nails to rip off another piece of flesh, "you really should have known better."

When her hunger is finally sated, she calls her broomstick to her, catching it as it slithers between the bars on the window. The heft is comforting and familiar, and she swings a leg over it because her mistress is calling her, and must not be denied.


	19. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which shit gets real.

Hansel does his best to protect Ben and shoots into the heart of the wind with a blessed bullet as a new cut appears on his own face. There's a shriek of pain but the carrion-scented storm doesn't stop, cold winds battering at Gretel and the governess until suddenly Teresa is floating out the window, and there seems to be nothing any of them can do about it. The governess moves out of Gretel's lee and is suddenly flayed as if the wind is full of glass. Gretel has to knock her down and protect her with her body, screaming for Edward to mark the hag's trail. Hansel runs to the window only to be knocked back as the witch flies in.

"Hello, pretty boy," she croons in a thick, clotted voice. Her face is inches from his and her breath reeks like an opened grave. Hansel headbutts her right in the bridge of her nose, because any trick good enough for his sister is good enough for him, and sends her reeling back before she turns and hurls a curse at Ben. Hansel tackles him out of the way and Gretel thunks a crossbow bolt into the witch's back. She shrieks and falls, and Hansel scrambles onto his knees, stabbing her with a blessed dagger before she can raise her wand again. A moment later there's a spray of blood and brain as Ben blows her head right off her shoulders. The governess vomits in the corner, and Hansel looks at Ben.

"Stay here, explain the mess, look after the old woman."

Ben nods, and Hansel and Gretel both go thundering down the stairs with weapons across their backs. Streets away Edward roars, and they hare off toward the sound, Sunrise a bounding streak at Hansel's heels. There's little traffic this late, and what there is gets the hell out of the way of a hunting troll. Particularly a peace-bonded one chasing a whirl of stink and fear. The wind has picked up so much trash that it's hard to even see Teresa in the middle of it., but they keep after it. Without the incense they can feel the cold, mortal fear of chasing a nighthag, that magically-generated despair and sense of failure. They ignore it, gritting their teeth and fighting the urge to hold hands like they did that first time.

There are too many people and windows for them to shoot safely, but the hag obliges them by having her lair in an old, burned out section of the city. In the remains of what must have once been a printmaker's, they can aim around Teresa with blessed bullets and bolts, which seem to hurt their foe without actually slowing her down any. The wind lays Teresa down on the floor, and a burning circle forms around her as the stinks gets even worse. All of them have scented some unbelievable foulnesses in this line of work, but after a few seconds Hansel is puking like the governess, dashing into a corner to keep from setting Gretel off. She grits her teeth, face dead white.

"We should have brought Ben. If blessed weaponry can't hurt this thing…"

Hansel is about to reply when Sunrise yips a sharp warning. Hansel dodges without looking, and feels the spectral blades as they go by. The hag howls as the circle burns brighter, and a gust of wind snatches Sunrise up and slams her into the remains of a stone wall. She yelps in pain, and lies very still below a delicate flower of fresh blood.

Hansel roars at the top of his lungs and charges into the circle in the kind of dangerous rage that gets people killed. Gretel screams after him, but it's too late, and the wind knocks him back, sending a massive spray of blood up from his face and chest. Gretel runs to him as Edward strikes at the wind to no effect. Within the circle the despair is worse than ever, and they can see Teresa's hands warping into hag-claws. Hansel coughs, blood and tears all over his face and all over Grete's crossbow bolts as she tries to help him.

"Shoot the bitch!" Hansel screams, long past caring about any wounds of his own. "Fucking shoot her!"

Gretel wants to point out how little good that has done, but she can no more stop fighting than her brother can. She shoots almost straight up, into the heart of the maelstrom, the bolt flying crooked because it's slick and tacky with Hansel's blood. She's expecting another shriek, but she's not expecting the way the creature coalesces, falling to the ground in front of them with a heavy thud as the fiery circle vanishes.


	20. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the siblings meet an old friend.

They've never seen anything uglier than the night hag, but they don't have time to stare, too busy wetting a blade with Hansel's blood, using it to cut that hideous fanged head off as its owner hisses at them. They burn the hag right there, unwilling to take any chances with ecclesiastical courts or any other foolishness. Teresa wakes up crying as the acrid, greenish smoke goes up, and Gretel hugs the girl. Her hands are still partially transformed, but she is otherwise fully intact.

Hansel limps over to Sunrise, eyes full of tears. "I meant to leave you somewhere safe," he whispers, picking up the tiny, limp body. He checks for a heartbeat and finds none, and buries his face in the orange and white fur and cries. Behind him he can hear Gretel assuring Teresa and helping her into Edward's arms, but he can't care about any of it. He can't even care about the pain he's in the and blood he's still losing through what feels like a thousand cuts.

And then the body starts to move. Not hopeful little kicks and twitches, unnatural and strange rippling and flexing and for a moment Hansel thinks Sunrise will burst with infernal maggots like that dog did five years back, a parting gift of the hag. He sets Sunrise down, and then stares as the fox's form changes to a human one. A human he knows very well.

"Mina…"

"Hansel," she whispers, and opens her eyes.

He almost kills her. He's so sure the whole thing is an illusion, but Edward sniffs the air and looks over. "Orange girl?"

"What? Edward, you know Mina is—holy shit."

"I am me. Hansel!" She's suddenly pulling at Hansel's clothes, trying to see the extent of the damage.

"They're shallow. Mina, what the hell…"

"It's a long story. Give me your coat."

Hansel does, dazed, and the two of them limp along together since she won't let Edward carry her when she can be a human crutch. Hansel hates to admit it, but he does need one, and leans heavily on Mina, who seems to be in perfect health.

They go back to the Skyholts' first, and Ben stares at them as the women rush to help their young mistress and to get Mina some clothes. This is always Hansel's least favorite part, the bustle and awkwardness of being thanked. But right now he can bear anything as long as he can keep sight of Mina. Ben stares at them in even deeper awe when they tell him about the fight.

"That was a hag-spawning you stopped! Holy shit, I don't think I've even _heard_ of that working. And how the hell is Mina alive?"

Mina smiles, but doesn't get a chance to tell them before they make their way back to the Von Meers' where she takes charge of the Hunter siblings herself, dabbing and binding cuts while Hansel just stares, spellbound. Once they're comfortable, Mina settles down, looking a bit nervous. 

"Now I suppose you want to know what I'm doing here, and what happened to Sunrise."

"I was assuming you were here all along," Gretel says, and Mina smiles.

"For the time you saw her. She was a real fox once upon a time."

"Mina, we saw you die," Hansel says, trying to keep his voice level.

"And so did your mother's spirit." Mina answers, stroking his hair. "I haven't done any of this under my own power. When I died, I thought I would stay that way. But there was a light, and Adrianna's voice saying, 'those bitches aren't going to rob my children a second time,' and I was Sunrise. She had died that same moment, far from her den where her helpless kits were waiting for her. I woke up in her body and went back to raise those kits for her before following you south. There's a vixen in my grave in Augsburg now." She's quiet after that, letting Hansel and Gretel absorb what she has told them. She just keeps petting Hansel, hands clumsy with disuse and happy to be hands again.


	21. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mina sneaks into Hansel's room to "talk."

The Von Meers are nothing if not hospitable, and the servants run to fetch some dresses in the right size, the maids ushering Mina off to make her decent. Hansel lurks around the door forlornly, and takes Mina's hand when she comes out again, dressed in blue and brown and looking a great deal as she did when they first met. Her eyes are lighter now, though, closer to yellow, and there's a thin white streak in her red hair. Her smile is just the same, and Hansel is suddenly fighting not to cry and losing again. Despite the plague of propriety down here, everyone has the decency to let Mina and Gretel hold him until he stops, tears pouring down Gretel's face as well. Gradually the siblings get control of themselves, and everyone has wine mulled with soothing herbs and then heads to bed. 

Hansel is still wide awake when Mina comes in and softly shuts the door behind her.

"So, uh…" Hansel blushes and sits up, watching her.

"So?" Mina purrs, and goes to him, kissing him deeply. He whines and melts into it, trembling. He wishes he could act less like a clueless little country boy, but there's no hope of that as Mina presses him back down into the pillow, ranging over him in nothing but a thin white shift. "I thought I'd sleep here tonight."

"Okay," Hansel breathes, and moans as she kisses him again, breasts pressed to his chest. Hel shudders, hands sliding down her back to grip her ass. Without thinking about it, he finds himself feeling for the base of her tail, and she giggles into the side of his neck.

"A little fox will always remain with me, but not that much."

"How much, then?"

She smiles, her hands on Hansel's encouraging him to push the shift up to her waist, pulling it off. "Just a little." She slides Hansel's braies down, avoiding touching his cock at all and making him whimper. "I can show you."

"O-oh?" He scrambles up onto his knees, because Mina is moving away, just enough to get onto all fours, legs spread. "Oh."

"That, and I want the blanket over us. More like a burrow."

Hansel just nods, pulling the rumpled blanket up around his shoulders like a cape before poising himself over Mina and handing her the headward edge. She pulls it forward and soon has them in a warm, dark cocoon. A bit too dark, and Hansel's condoms aren't in reach anyway. 'Uh, Mina…"

"It's taken care of, just please…" She trails off into breathless silence as Hansel lines up and sinks into her.

"Better?" He gasps. They're pressed together now, not a fraction of his shaft outside her body, and he bites his lip to keep from making too loud a noise.

" _Yes_ ," Mina whispers, grinding back against him. "Move."

Hansel moves, and whimpers helplessly, struggling to keep deep groans from rumbling up from his chest. He bites Mina's shoulder to muffle himself, and she cries out into the pillow, begging him to hold on and to fuck her harder. Hansel really has no choice but to oblige. He's afraid he'll really hurt her, but she sure doesn't sound like, and it doesn't feel like either with Mina so wet and so tight around him. She milks his cock with those deliberate clenches that had nearly driven him mad in the healing waters, and he groans into her flesh, coming deep inside her. Mina shudders, rocking on him as he trembles to a stop. Hansel shudders and nuzzles her neck.

"I don't know what God was thinking."

"Mm?"

"When He gave men such hair-triggers."

Mina laughs. "Your mouth is as sweet as your cock to me, Hansel." She pulls off and rolls onto her back, holding her outer lips open with two fingers. Hansel shudders and kisses her before getting to work. He can taste himself as well, but he doesn't mind that. It tastes like proof that Mina is here with him, mixed with her tangy, salty sweetness. He moans softly and uses the circular motion she taught him before, opening his eyes to look up at her blissful face as she writhes under his mouth and finally comes with a huge, inward gasp and something that's almost a scream, all air and hardly any sound and muffled in the pillow.


	22. And Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue of sorts, with more changes for the Hunters.

The next day, when he's doing a bit more reading, Ben is able to explain why Hansel's blood was so effective and how they can use it again. His eyes are creepily bright as he shows them the ancient black leather book on warlocks that has become his constant companion.

"See? It's a fascinating reversal, where witches' abilities are mostly external, and a warlock's are internal. A warlock's power is generally self-directed and passive." He shows them a complicated diagram of magical feedback within the male body, and Mina smiles.

"I should have known. Witches are supposed to find warlocks irresistible." 

Hansel blushes, and Gretel laughs. "I guess it would take magic. So his blood is poison to nighthags…"

"And to sea hags. Remember that story you told me about the serpent witch? Bleeding on her is probably what let you take her down."

"Huh," Hansel says, one arm around Mina and the other hand holding a cup of tea she has brewed him to help his serum along, "I'll be damned."

"You might actually be able to heal yourself, too, if you work at it," Ben adds, and only Mina feels the suppressed tremor that goes through Hansel. 

Ben also finds them some good passages on hag-spawning. The process is irreversible if completed, but Mina shows Gretel how to heal Teresa's warped hands. She doesn't have the power to do it herself, and Gretel is weak and tired all day, but it's worth it to see Teresa whole and healthy. Once Gretel rests up, they take their leave of the Von Meers and thank them for everything, striking out to the north again.

Months later and under a full summer moon, Gretel sighs. They're camped near a town so she's not on watch, she just can't sleep. It's good to be free again, to be able to drink and swear and hunt, to wear trousers and boots. But there are times she misses the city. Even the dancing Hansel thought was so stupid. She looks up at the few bright stars that can compete with the golden moon and then back down to Edward when she hears him coming up beside her.

"Gretel sad?" He rumbles.

"Not really. I just didn't hate the city as much as Hansel did."

Edward makes a wordless, thoughtful noise, and suddenly stands much straighter, making a perfect bow and holding out one hand. Gretel stares, then smiles and takes it, dancing slowly under the moon with Edward humming a tune they both remember. He remembers every motion, too, and is very graceful as he leads Gretel through the complex forms with one fingertip. She holds onto it the way she did when she was a tiny, tiny girl and danced with her father before the candy house, before everything. Edward smiles down at her. She really does love her troll, and kisses his massive, gnarled hand at the end of the dance.

The explosion is something of a surprise. There's a blast of light and magical force that hurls her back and wakes the others. Hansel and Mina lurch up from their shared bedroll, hair and eyes wild, and Ben tangles in his, cursing. 

"Gretel? Sis, you okay?"

"I think so," Gretel says, taking her brother's offered hand and standing up. "But what about Edward?"

Mina picks her way over to the spot where Edward was and a crater is now. "Well, well, well. I had no idea, Gretel."

"What is it?" She drags Hansel to the crater's edge, holding his hand for comfort the way she has since childhood. In the bottom of the crater is a naked man in the fetal position, surrounded by the tatters of Edward's clothes. He seems to be sound asleep, and it only sinks in when she sees that he has the same mole on his much smaller nose. "Edward?"

"Woah." Hansel stares. "Mina?"

"Witches don't eat all the children they take." She hops down into the crater and the others follow. Edward may be human now, but he's still enormous, and it takes the three of them and Ben to lug him up and out and wrap him in a blanket. He blinks as they lay him out beside the fire, and Gretel smiles nervously down at him.

"You okay, Edward?"

"Edward okay." It's the same voice, just so much lighter now. He blinks, and touches his lips with wondering fingertips. "…I'm human now?"

"Again," Mina tells him. "I know it's been a very long time."

Edward smiles. "Human again," he murmurs, and goes back to sleep.


End file.
